


an endless yearning in your heart

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets, part ii. [50]
Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-23 00:59:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15594723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: “Can I?” Andrew's fairly certain that he knows the answer, but he needs to be sure - there’s no way that he’s going to take a step over this line on a hunch, even if it’s one he’s mostly confident about. Steven nods fervently and abruptly moves forward. With a quiet clunk, their foreheads collide, and even as Andrew momentarily winces, he can’t help but laugh, barely louder than a huff.“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Steven begins. Before he can keep going, possibly launch into an apology that will wake up the entire bus, Andrew leans in and does what he’s been dreaming of for literal years.Namely, kisses Steven.





	an endless yearning in your heart

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for an anonymous tumblr prompt, which asked for, "standrew high school au!" one day, I'll probably write a longer high school au, but for now, here's this! per the usual, all typos and fuck-ups are mine.
> 
> title from [You Are A Tourist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkk5wViJo-I) by Death Cab for Cutie.

Ordinarily, by this time of night, Andrew would be in bed.

If he wasn’t already asleep, he would probably be under the covers, reading a book by the dim glow of his bedside lamp and absently petting his cat. Maybe, depending on the night, he would be lying in the dark, talking to Steven on the phone and trying not to drift off or say something incredibly stupid, something like _I love you_ or _I wish you were here with me._

Tonight, however, is no ordinary night.

Even though it’s just past midnight on a Friday, he’s in the back seat of a school bus, an hour and a half away from home. They were supposed to be back from their field trip, which was a full day of museum hopping followed by a movie, three hours ago, but barely five minutes after they’d left the theater, the back tire on their bus had abruptly exploded. They’d had to wait in the empty parking lot of a big-box store for a replacement to arrive, swathed in a sickly yellow glow from the towering lights overhead. At first, there had been an excited energy to the air, an energy that manifested itself in shouts and sudden explosions of laughter and darting movements as people chased after each other, an energy brought on by the sheer novelty of the situation.

By the end of the first hour, the energy had waned. By the time they all trooped back onto the bus, it had almost vanished. While some of his classmates had gotten a brief second wind once they were back on the road, it had quickly died, plunging the bus into a near-silence that has persisted for the most part, broken only by snippets of whispered conversation and the occasional snore or snuffle (some coming from across the aisle, where Adam and Annie are fast asleep).

Outside, the world whizzing by the dirty windows is dark. The traffic is light at this time of night, and only occasionally does a lit-up billboard appear on the side of the road, as bright as an artificial moon. Inside, the glow of a laptop screen coming from a few rows up is illuminating a small patch of the riveted ceiling in eerily blue light. The glow doesn’t quite reach to the back row, but it provides enough illumination for Andrew to make out the outline of Steven’s face, mere inches away from him. From there, his mind is more than able to fill in the details, able to sketch in Steven’s dark, expressive eyes and the upturn of his nose and the slight quirk of his mouth. 

Even though the seat is wide enough to fit two people without them touching, Steven is leaning against Andrew’s side, with his head canted over to rest on Andrew’s shoulder. His hair is tickling Andrew’s neck, impossibly soft, like a butterfly kiss. His knees are braced against the back of the seat in front of them, and every so often, when they go over a particularly large bump, one of his dangling feet bumps into Andrew’s thigh.

They haven’t talked since they got on the interstate - trying to carry on a conversation at such a low volume felt like more effort than it was worth - but they’re listening to music from Steven’s phone, sharing a pair of earbuds. Andrew’s heard the album before, usually in the background of their study sessions; the music itself is soft and quiet, mostly acoustic guitar and piano, but the singer has a soaring, melodic voice perfectly suited to the bittersweet lyrics of heartbreak and love. 

If Andrew was sitting beside anyone else, he’d be trying to get some sleep, with his sweater stuck between his head and the window to try and absorb some of the bumps. As is, even though he _is_ tired, even though his eyes ache to close, there’s nervous energy coiled underneath his skin, concentrated in the places where him and Steven are pressed together. Every time one of them moves, no matter how minutely, the touch buries under his skin and flushes him with heat. When Steven moves his head slightly, so that his cheek is resting against Andrew’s chest, Andrew has to try and disguise his sudden gasp as a cough.

The thing is, he should be used to this by now. This _thing_ isn't new; he’s had a crush on Steven since ninth grade, practically from the first time he saw him. He should have trained these reactions out of himself long ago, should have figured out how to keep his skin from igniting every time Steven so much as brushes against him.

Should have, but hasn’t.

And now, even though he should be trying to get some sleep, all he can focus on is Steven: on the pale smudge of his hand where it’s resting against his own thigh, on the way his lips are moving soundlessly to the lyrics, on the way his shoulder presses into Andrew’s whenever they go over a bump. In fact, he’s so distracted by Steven’s general existence that, when the album draws to a close and a muted kind of quiet fills the earbud, it takes him a few moments to realize it. He waits to see if Steven will find something else for them to listen to, but aside from rubbing his cheek gently against Andrew’s chest (probably to scratch an itch), he remains motionless.

It’s all too possible that Steven simply hasn’t noticed yet - maybe he’s too busy caught up in his own thoughts, thoughts of the post-graduation world that awaits them in only a few months, or something less ominous. Maybe he’s on the verge of dozing off. Either way, when the silence starts to become oppressive, Andrew turns his head and gently knocks his shoulder against Steven’s.

“Steven?” he asks, pitching his voice low so that he doesn’t wake up the people sitting in front of them.

“Yeah?” Steven straightens up slightly and turns his own head, so that his chin is resting on Andrew’s shoulder.

Just like that, Andrew forgets what he was going to say.

They’re close enough that their noses are almost brushing. Andrew can feel Steven’s breath ghosting against his mouth, and they’re pressed together from shoulder to hip. 

Andrew’s heart feels like it’s going to stop or catch on fire.

“Uh,” he says as he struggles to find his voice again. The smartest thing for him to do would be to pull away before he does something stupid, but there must be a miscommunication between his mind and muscles, because he doesn’t move. “The album is over.” 

“Oh.” Steven glances down at his phone but doesn't make a move to turn it on. “You’re right.” The words are shaky as they leave his mouth - Andrew is familiar enough with Steven’s vocal patterns to know that he doesn’t imagine it. But he doesn’t have a definitive answer as to _why_ they’re shaky. It could be from being tired or it could be because he’s feeling uncomfortable.

Or it could be from something else. Maybe, just maybe, the unsteadiness in Steven’s voice is being caused by the same thing that’s making Andrew’s chest too tight.

Perhaps it’s because of the darkness surrounding them and the lack of prying eyes, but while Andrew would normally be quick to dismiss that possibility as wishful thinking, tonight, he wants to know with certainty if that possibility is reality. 

Carefully, he inches his hand out of his own lap and moves it over, bit by bit, until it’s bumping against the side of Steven’s leg. He pauses for a moment, both to gauge Steven’s reaction and to take a deep breath of preparation to move a little further.

Before he can let the breath out, Steven’s hand lands on top of his.

Andrew glances down, unable to see more than the faint outline of their hands, and pauses again, just in case Steven made a mistake. Instead, Steven wiggles his hand underneath Andrew’s and flips it over, palm up. Without thinking, Andrew shifts slightly, and that’s all it takes for their fingers to slot together. He can almost hear them _click_ together in his mind. 

He’s pretty sure that his whole body is going to catch on fire, never mind his heart.

“Do you want to listen to something else?” The words stumble out of his mouth; he’s pretty sure the only reason he manages to get them out at all is because he’s still looking down at their intertwined hands, not at Steven’s face. When he glances back up, he swallows heavily. Shaking his head, Steven’s chin momentarily digs sharply into the meat of Andrew’s shoulder before he moves closer.

“No,” he stutters. He’s so close that Andrew nearly swallows the word. “Do you?”

Andrew shakes his head, takes a deep, steadying breath, and squeezes Steven’s hand.

“No.” His head feels barely attached to his shoulders, and his stomach has dropped to the floor. This isn’t his first kiss - that particular honor went to Eugene during a round of truth or dare in freshman year - but he’s never been this nervous to kiss someone, never been so worried about fucking up. After using his free hand to tug his earbud out so that it doesn’t get in the way, he carefully turns slightly and, with shaking fingers, drops his palm to the smooth curve of Steven’s cheek. Steven makes a quiet sound, an unsteady _oh_ that is quite possibly the loveliest thing Andrew has ever heard. 

“Andrew,” he whispers, craning his cheek into the contact. Andrew’s imagined what it would be like to hear Steven say his name like this, breathy and quiet, but what he created in the confines of his mind barely holds a candle to the real thing.

“Can I?” He’s fairly certain that he knows the answer, but he _needs_ to be sure - there’s no way that he’s going to take a step over this line on a hunch, even if it’s one he’s mostly confident about.

Steven nods fervently and abruptly moves forward. With a quiet clunk, their foreheads collide, and even as Andrew momentarily winces, he can’t help but laugh, barely louder than a huff.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Steven begins. Before he can keep going, possibly launch into an apology that will wake up the entire bus, Andrew leans in and does what he’s been dreaming of for literal years.

Namely, kisses Steven.

Steven makes another one of those tiny sounds, a quiet _oh_ , and squeezes Andrew’s hand, almost to the point of pain, before he slumps against Andrew’s side and opens his mouth a little wider. His lips are chapped, and there’s a slight divot on the bottom one from where he’s always pressing his teeth in. Andrew wants more than anything to gently press his own teeth there, see how they fit, but he’s not going to ruin this by moving too fast. 

Hopefully, there will be plenty of time in the future for him to explore all the possibilities filling his head. For now, his only goal is to make Steven’s first kiss something that he won’t regret.

All too soon, when the bus goes over another particularly large bump, they break away from each other. Andrew slowly opens his eyes and rubs his thumb along the ridge of Steven’s cheekbone. There’s a lump in his throat that feels suspiciously like his own heart, and he has to swallow before he can speak.

“Was that okay?”

Steven nods and bumps his nose against Andrew’s. “Can we do it again?”

Andrew almost laughs, not because it’s an absurd question, but because he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to hear it.

“Yeah,” he answers, tamping the laugh down and leaning back in. “Definitely.”

After their second kiss comes to an end, Steven actually laughs, quiet but giddy. He doesn’t ask for a third; he simply leans in for it, and Andrew meets him halfway, has to try and quell his grin so that he can kiss Steven properly.

Eventually, once their kisses have turned open-mouthed and firm, Andrew decides to take a chance on something. Carefully, he brushes his tongue against the swell of Steven’s bottom lip, as gently as he can manage.

He’s prepared for Steven to have some kind of reaction, to maybe sigh quietly or gasp or tighten his fingers around Andrew’s. Instead, he _shudders_ from head to toe. The movement reverberates through Andrew, where they’re pressed together, and he fails to bite back a moan from deep in his chest. Already, if there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that Steven is so damn _responsive_ , and while Andrew doesn’t want to get ahead of himself, his mind is racing with thoughts of how beautifully Steven might react if Andrew got his mouth on the long curve of his neck or the smooth skin of his chest.

As much as he doesn’t want to, he thinks that maybe it’s time for them to pull back a bit, before things get a little too heated or they manage to wake someone up. After another gentle brush of his tongue (and another shudder in return), he backs away and presses a softer kiss to the corner of Steven’s mouth. He opens his eyes, wishing that the lights were up so that he could actually get a good look at Steven, so that he could memorize the image of his flushed cheeks and his swollen lips panting for breath.

“Wanna come over tomorrow?” Steven asks, bracing his forehead against Andrew’s. He sounds breathless, overwhelmed, and for a moment, Andrew almost rethinks his decision to put a pause on things.

But they can always pick up where they left tomorrow, in Steven’s bed, which is a hell of a lot more comfortable than the bus seat.

“Yeah,” he answers. A grin blossoms across his face, a grin that he couldn’t restrain even if he wanted to. “What time?” 

“As soon as I wake up. Whenever that’s gonna be.”

“Maybe we should try and get some sleep now then, so that we don’t sleep in as late tomorrow.” Even in the dark, Andrew is able to see the flash of grin that Steven shoots him before he leans for another quick kiss.

“You always have the best ideas.” Scooting down lower in the seat, which sends his knees further up the back of the seat in front of them, he drops his head back to Andrew’s shoulder. Bringing their still intertwined hands up to his mouth, he presses another soft kiss against Andrew’s knuckles before he lowers them back down to his lap and starts thumbing at his phone with his free hand. After a moment, the album that they were listening to before starts playing again. “Goodnight, Andrew.”

With an utterly content sigh, Andrew drops his head on top of Steven’s, presses his face into the soft mop of Steven’s hair, and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight, Steven.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
